


Lonely Holiday

by yourKitty



Series: Christmas Drabbles [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Umbrellas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourKitty/pseuds/yourKitty





	Lonely Holiday

Holiday season once again; London was not only dusted with but coated with sparkling snow that showed no indication of solid end. You trudged through the wintry pelt to return safely to your flat, but this proved to be a daunting task in heeled boots that were certainly not crafted for heavy travel. Citizens still populated the streets, mercilessly pushing each other past to retreat to their own homes after the last workday. 

You hadn’t an idea why your mind focused on him, but as you stepped in past the welcome mat, you came to the realization that your good friend, Mycroft, (though he would not admit it) would have been left alone. That was his normal position around the holidays, particularly on Christmas, despite his mother’s incessant pleading and whining, insisting that he visit. You knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Not only that, but you hadn’t talked in a month, and you did miss him. 

You snatched the cellphone from your coat pocket and dialed his number. He picked up with a reluctant start. 

“Hey. It’s been a while. What are you up to?” 

“Nothing important.” 

With a sigh you continued, “Well, you know, Christmas is in two days…” 

He cut you off, “(Y/N), you do this every year. I’m not coming over.” 

“I know you aren’t visiting your parents, so why don’t you at least come here? You know my address.” 

“No.” 

“I’m not letting you spend the day alone.” 

There was no response after that. You couldn’t hear anything. Removing the phone from your ear, you saw that he’d hung up on you, yet another signal he gave to imply that you weren’t worth his time or consideration. However, you were quite aware that he’s always had issues conveying or coming to terms with hefty emotion, and for that you couldn’t fault him. What you could fault him for was purposefully isolating himself from the few people that truly care for him. 

*****  
Christmas day. You had just returned from your parents’ house. You failed to remove your peacoat and thick scarf, distractedly viewing the remaining gifts under your rather eclectic Christmas tree. One for your favourite co-worker which you forgot to give, one for your landlady, and one for Mycroft. 

You stepped toward the tree with a sigh, retrieving two gifts and again skittering outside. You dropped off the landlady’s gift at her doorstep and rushed past other residences and luckily caught a cab to Mycroft’s place, even through the wintry conditions. 

His residence was, naturally, well-kept and admittedly large for only one person. With confident force you tapped on the door and gave the bell a ring. He opened up at least, eyeing you with subtle contempt, towering over you. It was clear he was not expecting visitors. It was of no concern to you. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

“I told you not to come.” 

“You didn’t really think I’d leave you alone on Christmas, did you?” You began to shove your way past him, allowing the tissue paper in the large bag you carried to rustle by the action. He stood in your way. 

“I’m not letting you stay.” 

“Not even today?” Tinges of betrayal shadowed the stoic tone you tried to emote. “Come on, old man.” He wasn’t amused. 

“I don’t have the patience for this.” 

“Neither do I. So let me in. I promise I won’t bother you for an entire month. Again.” The truth was that he consistently ignored or deferred your friendly attempts. 

He sighed, understanding that you possessed no desire to quit and that intentional lack of communication did pain you, and hesitantly moved aside. You worked your way into the den -- a task proving difficult by the size of the bag you carried -- and the door was shut firmly behind. 

The den was as extravagant as the rest of the home, as expected. It was nearly the size of your entire flat. The thought of deeper intentions lingered in your mind; as in, why would a man so alone purchase a home of this stature? You wanted to think he had other plans, but that just couldn’t be. 

It didn’t occur to you to sit down. “Well, this is for you.” You sheepishly offered him the bulk you were ailing to carry. He glanced at the pile of tissue paper hiding the gift knowingly, as if he knew what you’d gotten already. And he probably did. Another umbrella for that notorious collection, of which he was quite appreciative. 

“I guess this is a good time for me to leave,” you began softly, turning on a heel. 

“You don’t have to leave. So soon, I mean.” His speech had an air of strangely sentimental apprehension. 

“Yeah?” 

No reply, but you flashed an appreciative smile to him, as someone who yearned for years to get this close. At least now, for the first time in many years, you could spend this special day together.


End file.
